


ice bitch queen of mean

by circeltea



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, aelwyn...has trauma, but like ur traumas affect each other n ur sisters, n u love each other and despite it all ur allies bc ur sisters., n ur Sisters....yea, rlly its aelwyn & everyone but listen its a 2k fic, when ur like a daughter n u have trauma and u have a sister who has different trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circeltea/pseuds/circeltea
Summary: wake up from this awful dream!Some mornings, Aelwyn and Adaine will wake to find a breathing, iridescent shield built around the two of them through the night. The mornings the shield happens, both of them lie still in bed a little longer, until the telltale sounds of kitchen pans and running water and Figueroth Faeth creating an unholy noise dissolve the sadness into just another regular late-morning. And finally then they can get out of bed and step into the bright squares of strong, yellow sunlight streaming in through dusty windows, and neither of them mention the twin tear-stains on the pillowcases.
Relationships: Adaine Abernant & Aelwen Abernant, Aelwen Abernant & Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 96





	ice bitch queen of mean

In the Aftermath of Everything, Aelwyn is still kind of just herself. A more shivery, starkly hollowed-out version of herself than she’s ever let herself be before, but still something in her that says, _okay, we’re still here, I’m still alive_. This, of course, is soothing for only a short while, until it is very much not.

The bunk bed, for all of Mr. O’Shaughnessey’s kindness (for Adaine, who deserves it), is installed largely in vain, because night after night the two of them find their unspoken way into the same bed, under the same heaped up blankets, elbows nudging elbows, knees knocking against knees. Like they were kids again. Adaine, ever clever, has figured out a night-light setting to Bogariel. When one or the other of them snaps out of trance in the dead of night, frozen cold in fear, the gentle glow is soothing. Peaceable.

Aelwyn feels anything but.

Aelwyn would like to claw out of her own skin, sometimes, just to catch a cold and gasping breath. Aelwyn knows that she is a cruel, selfish bitch, and just because she wants Adaine to keep liking her doesn’t mean Adaine, Mr. O’Shaughnessey, _everyone_ , shouldn’t know about it too. Aelwyn is not very good at practicing self-compassion yet, presumably because she doesn’t deserve it. _Which is exactly what a person who is not practicing self-compassion would say. But also I don’t deserve it. But also I’m in a trap of self-hatred. Except it’s not self-hatred if it’s true. But it’s not true, and I was a child. And I was manipulated. But it was still me, and I’m still me._

_I’ll still be me for the whole rest of my miserable fucking life._

Aelywn lies all tangled up together in Adaine’s trance-warm arms and watches her baby sister breathe.

Aelwyn brings it up to Fabian, one night, as they sit under the stars on yet another secret, ruined balcony at Mordred Manor. Once the making out never stopped being weird, they forged a weird, fucked-up teen non-romance out of just the slipping away together, escaping the world to explore all the hidden places they could wrest out of this crumbling heap of rubble their families call home. So far, with this one included, they’re at a cool 17.

“You know I’m a bitch, right,” Aelwyn says into the muggy, late-summer air, just deepening past the blush of twilight. The atmosphere blankets her words, muffles them away.

“Th-, w-well,” Fabian begins to splutter. He’s always so indignant. “Like, duh.”

Aelwyn blinks. “Okay.”

“Okay, no, well, not like that. I’m not saying like, _oh, you’re a bitch_ , I respect women, okay, I’m not – “

Aelwyn snorts. “Respect ‘em so much you don’t even wanna kiss ‘em.”

Fabian kicks at Aelwyn’s ankle. “That’s uncalled for, and honestly kind of a low blow. _This_ is why you’re a bitch.”

She shoves back, amused. “No, it’s not. I’m a bitch because I’m a monster and I did like, crimes. And hurt people. Like Adaine.”

“Everybody does _crimes_ , that’s normal. And everyone hurts people. Adaine _killed_ a woman the first day we met, and not even like, a _cool_ person to kill, not even like, like a, a person who – “ Fabian takes a last rattling drag of his Capri-Sol (courtesy again of Mr. O’Shaughnessey) and tosses it over the edge of the balcony into the wild, curling thicket below. “Fuck, I dunno.”

“A person who litters?” Aelwyn offers, dry.

“What _ever_ , Aelwyn Abernant. Anyway, you’re not a monster. You’re like, seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen. So.”

“Eighteen year olds can be monsters. I’ve been awful to Adaine for eighteen years of my life now.”

Fabian sighs, picks up his elbow and finds the underside of it chalked grey with rock dust. Slaps at it. “Yeah, and now you’re trying not to be awful to her anymore, and you’re gonna live like fucking forever so,” he adopts a withering, frankly High elf-ist accent. “ _How quickly...the matters of mortals...and fucked up teens...fade, through the passing of the years…._ ”

Aelwyn casts Ray of Frost specifically into his flapping mouth. “Just because we’re elves doesn’t mean I get to find some kind of mysterious solace in the idea that we’ll outlive the most formative years of our lives, asshole. Adaine isn’t just going to miraculously forget how shitty of a sister I was to her.” (Am.)

Fabian coughs, hacks, spits. “She’s definitely not gonna forget if you keep trying to remind her,” he croaks out. “Give yourself a break.”

Aelwyn sets her jaw.

“It’s not like either of you are going to just miraculously forget your shitty parents, either. Even if they’re dead.”

They’re dead. They _are_ dead. Adaine succeeded in what Aelwyn had only dreamed of, fantasized about a thousand times over and then punished herself for daring to think. And she saved Aelwyn, too, though Aelwyn didn’t deserve it. Her. _Doesn’t_ deserve her. She doesn’t know how to repay her baby sister the debt of her own life. And really, nor does she think Adaine would accept anything given as ‘repayment’ anyway.

Aelwyn stares up at the stars and tries very resolutely to ignore the burning clench of her throat.

There’s a knock at her ankle again. Fabian’s worn-out Converse.

“Sorry,” he says, very lightly but matter-of-factly. “I got kinda flippant about a really sensitive topic.” (Yes.) “But really. It takes...time. Which you have. So, don’t rush it. And stop trying to tell everyone else how to feel about you, when we already l-...well, that is to say, we, like, everyone, we _lo-_ , we, believe, in you, yes, and, – “

Aelwyn laughs, still not looking at him, but pressing her ankle against the side of his shoe so _so_ hard. “Okay. Yes. Don’t strain yourself too hard.”

Fabian presses back, trying to shove now. “How am I straining. How am I straining. You can’t even say it back.”

“I’d say it back if it were _true_ , idiot, but actually I hate you. And, you suck at kissing.”

“YOU CAN’T SAY I SUCK AT KISSING WHEN YOU’RE FULLY A LESBIAN, DUDE, I HATE YOU TOO, FUCKING – STOP RAY-OF-FROST’ING ME – “

Some mornings, Aelwyn and Adaine will wake to find a breathing, iridescent shield built around the two of them through the night, ever-so-slightly expanding and waning as slowly as their chests rise and fall with the deep, slow breaths of trance, and Aelwyn can never tell whose breath syncs up with the bubble – whose fault it is. The mornings the shield happens, both of them lie still in bed a little longer, until the telltale sounds of kitchen pans and running water and Figueroth Faeth creating an unholy noise dissolve the sadness into just another regular late-morning. And finally then they can get out of bed and step into the bright squares of strong, yellow sunlight streaming in through dusty windows, and neither of them mention the twin tear-stains on the pillowcases.

Aelwyn visits Compass Points somewhat frequently, when there isn’t much else to do around the house. It’s a rather...unconventional visitor experience, but when it comes down to it, a library is a library, and Aelwyn found herself somewhat surprised at how fiercely she missed idling the hours away reading about someone else’s life, adventures, relationships, problems. It helps that Ayda mostly leaves her alone – whatever her anxieties surrounding social cues and subtext, she seems to recognize just fine that an Aelwyn Abernant curled up at the furthest recess between the two most remote bookshelves in the whole library – is an Aelwyn who simply has no capacity for social interaction.

Fig has no such compunctions and cannot read a room for shit, so mostly Aelwyn leaves when Fig makes her visitation known (very known). But the quietness is nice, when Aelwyn needs the quiet.

When she needs the loud, there is no end to the opportunities. Actually, Fig is teaching her to play the electric guitar, which is as excruciating and humiliating as it sounds, but also somewhat...exhilarating? Aelwyn used to play the violin, but this is another beast entirely. And Adaine laughed so loud when she walked into the basement during band practice that one time and found Aelwyn going ham on the cymbals while Gorgug murdered the drums and Ragh (in the corner, wearing a Cig Figs band shirt) shouted, with breathless conviction and a steadying rhythm, “ _HOOT! GROWL! HOOT! GROWL! HOOT! GROWL! FUCK! YES!_ ”

It’s startling to realize she’s making friends. With her _little sister’s_ friends, but she also has, like, wine nights with Sandra Lynn. Or wine/vodka nights with Lydia Barkrock. Or wine nights with Hallariel and Cathilda (and ugh, Fabian), while Gilear drinks Fantasy Danimals.

Aelwyn is trying to ignore the fact that she is almost already the archetypal elven wine mom. She’s trying to figure out what Hallariel and Cathilda’s deal is.

The only of her little sister’s friends Aelwyn doesn’t really hang out with are Kristen, Tracker, and Riz. The former two because prior to Tracker leaving with Ragh on her own quest for whatever, Kristen and Tracker would be off together somewhere all the time, probably getting up to unmentionable activities too upsetting to even ruminate upon. Which, good for them.

After Tracker leaves, Aelwyn does get some time with Kristen. Mostly they do hard drugs and talk about girls, but obviously this can’t be an ‘every other day’ type thing. Aelwyn already has a wine mom schedule to keep up with. (This isn’t substance abuse because motherfucking _Jawbone_ caught up way too early for that, and now moderates her intake severely.)

Aelwyn doesn’t hang out with Riz because Fabian gets pouty when Aelwyn and Riz make fun of him together, and hogs Riz all to himself away from malicious third parties. Also, Aelwyn can’t stand looking at Riz’s tattoos, and then his piercing sharp eyes looking at her looking. But mostly the Fabian thing. It’s kind of cute (in a pathetic way!)

“Anyway, you’re not a bitch. Or, at least not like, a _monstrous_ bitch,” Adaine says, one night, apropos of nothing. She says it so casual-like, as if they were just in the middle of a conversation Aelwyn for _some reason_ did not have the privilege of knowing about beforehand.

Aelwyn is going to murder Fabian. Adaine goes about her business neatly folding up her day-clothes and then Fearstrike-tossing them (Fearstrike: the lesser favorite sport of Solesian high schools, featuring a rectangular court with an elevated hoop or basket on either end) into a crumpled heap in the laundry basket. Jawbone has everyone do laundry to teach ‘good work ethic,’ and out of fairness to those who don’t have Mending.

“I’m going to murder Fabian,” Aelwyn replies, pleasantly.

“Please don’t,” just as pleasant. “Or, if you did, I would at least hope that it came from a genuine and real place inside of you, because I would know in that case that Fabian really did something to deserve it. I think that’s rather believable.”

Aelwyn impatiently yanks off her _VOAT? BAN?_ t-shirt and immediately whips a Mending on it. “I’m going to cut Fabian Aramais Seacaster’s miserable little life short, and then I’ll put the Hangman and Riz _both_ up for adoption. How dare he try to destroy my vicious bitch ice queen reputation.”

Adaine laughs, brushing past Aelwyn to grab a towel. “No but, I’m serious. We’ve all fucked up pretty bad in the past, but I’m glad we’re all here now.” She turns to face Aelwyn. Her smile is so warm and genuine-happy – Aelwyn itches to bear the full brunt of it, but she also can’t imagine looking away.

“I’m glad _you’re_ here,” Adaine continues. “I’m glad you’re who you are. I’m glad I’m who _I_ am, which is, frankly kind of a crazy thing to be able to say. But it’s true. And honestly, you’re not even like, _mean_ anymore, so there’s that. You’re not a bitch.”

Aelwyn splutters.

“But, more than anything, I-...I’m just happy you’re you and you’re here and you’re my big sister, you know?” There’s a shiny brightness to Adaine’s eyes, but she makes no move to hide her tears. “I never could have imagined we’d get here, and I’m so glad we did. I love you so much. I’ve missed you for a really long time.”

Aelwyn gapes, horrified, at her awful little sister, as tears spring to her own eyes. “I love you too. I can’t believe you’d just make me cry without like, warning or anything. I’m so happy you forgave me for all the wrong I did you, even though sometimes I still can’t really believe I’m so lucky to have as incredible a sister as you. Fuck. Fuck you. God. I was going to just go take a shower and then go to bed.”

Adaine laughs, half-hysterical through her tears. “But, you weren’t,” she says.

“What?”

“You weren’t,” Adaine says again. “Because. I love you. I’m your baby sister and you’re going to let _me_ take first shower.”

Aelwyn laughs too, and sniffles. “I love you so much. I would never do that,” and stomps hard on Adaine’s foot.

“OW! Fuck you, Hideous Laughter!”

“Counterspell!”

“Counterspell your Counterspell!”

“Eat my ass! Haha! Hahahaha, _fuck you_ , hah, ahaha, _I’ll murder you too –_ “

Beloved Adaine shouts back, from halfway down the hall, “Then I’ll see you in hell, dearest sister of mine!”

So things are okay. And sometimes they’re not, again, but those times can be weathered. Eventually they do start making proper use of the bunk bed, and then they magic together a slide that goes directly from the bunk bed all the way to the kitchen table, thus breaking Mordred Manor even more. And then Fig wants the exact same kind of gig, but she and Ayda – and...well.

Anyway. Thank fuck for Greater Invisibility.

Sandra Lynn really chugs it that Wine Night.

In the aftermath of it all, things become okay.

**Author's Note:**

> shlapped this badboy 2gether after speedrunning both seasons of fantasy high in Way Too Short An Amount Of Time...anyway THANK U FOR READING !!! PWEASE COMMENT OR KUDO OR ANYTHING !! ALSO I THINK AELWYN IS KINDA HITTING ME IN A BELATED VRISKA HOMESTUCK RENAISSANCE SORT OF WAY. WHOOPS!!
> 
> tumblr @ardornery, twitter @circeltea! mwah!!
> 
> ohhh my god waiat rlly like bluh bluh huge bitch. [REVELATION ......]


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